


Stealth Mode Engage

by Vyranai



Series: The Tales of Aevella Lavellan [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Not-so stealthy Lavellan, Oneshot, Romance, cutesy kisses, shameless fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-25 21:40:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9846554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vyranai/pseuds/Vyranai
Summary: Aevella Lavellan practices her stealth abilities on Solas. It's just unfortunate that he keeps on catching her.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Just some shameless Solavellan fluff to brighten up your Monday.
> 
> Want to prompt me? You can at my Tumblr! thelastmorozova.tumblr.com

“I know you're there, Aevella.”

“No I'm n- damn it.” Shoulders slumped, Aevella stepped from within the shadows with a grumpy look marring her face. “How do you catch me _every time?_ Stealth mode is supposed to be... well... stealth mode! What am I doing wrong?”

Solas didn't look away from his book, merely moving onto the next line. “Because you are very easy to catch.”

Aevella stopped behind his seat and scoffed. “Are you saying that I have big feet?”  
“As far as I'm aware, you have moderately sized feet.” He made to turn the page, but with lightning swiftness Aevella snagged the tome from his hands and slammed it down upon the tabletop where the resounding _bang_ echoed around the rotunda.

“Tell me how you catch me every single time,” Aevella asked sweetly, twining her arms around his shoulders until they were pressed close together; she pecked a kiss to his cheek. “Pretty please.”

Solas sighed and leaned his head back, partly catching sight of Aevella's face. She was very pretty for such a little thing, fiery red hair falling around her face like the waves of the ocean catching the last of the sun's rays, colour mirrored in the lines of Andruil's arrows on her face. Her deep green eyes glinted with an inner mischief. “Da'banal'ras, this strategy didn't work the last time you tried.”

Aevella placed her lips firmly against his forehead, tightening her embrace on him. “One day I will succeed in charming the secrets of your perceptiveness right out of you.”

“Maybe one day you will.” He didn't doubt it.

Aevella unwound her arms and slid her hands over his shoulders and down his chest, lips moving to his cheek; her fingers found the length of leather belt around his middle and tugged playfully at it. “Can I persuade you another way?” she breathed against his cheek.

Solas' fingers wrapped around Aevella's thin wrist, effectively stopping her in her tracks. “Hands, Aevella,” he told her in a pleasant, cordial voice. “They're wandering.”

She twisted in his grip, but it was next to impossible to break it; Aevella pouted like a small child denied a new toy against his cheek, pulling back a little. “How else can I bribe you? I've offered books, favours and _favours,_ oh, and my love. But yet you still refuse to break.”

“Tell me one good reason why I should divulge my secrets, and then I shall speak.” If she thought about it hard enough, Solas theorized that Aevella would realize her mistake without his involvement.

Aevella pressed her cheek against the crown of his head, thinking hard for a long moment. A good enough reason... “Well... you could stop me from dying at the hands of some unspeakable evil?”

“Elaborate.” Solas let her wrist go, but she didn't unhook herself from his belt. Aevella liked to _touch,_ to get as close as possible to a person. As close as they were comfortable with, of course. Her innocent actions reminded him of Compassion spirits, the way they liked to touch people that felt alone in the world, so isolated with no escape. Aevella's perceptiveness was not unlike Compassion with how she, in her own words, 'hugged first, asked questions later.'

He would never deserve this woman.

Aevella sighed in defeat, fingers loosening at long last. “Other than not dying, you mean?”

“Think about it, then come back to me. Or if you dare, try your moves on me again.”

“Is it that obvious, my mistake?” Aevella stepped back completely and moved to the front, slipping into the narrow gap between Solas' knees and the table; she plonked herself down into his lap without so much as a warning, throwing up her legs upon the wooden arm and crossing her bare ankles. “You don't mind this, right?” she finally asked, turning her face up at him with her bottom lip between her teeth.

Only the inner conflict that it caused him. Compared with his immeasurable age, Aevella was a child. Even her actions, so endearingly sweet and thoughtless, caused him reason for concern; what if he was prolonging the inevitable tragedy in allowing her advances and stolen kisses to escalate? If he was selfless, Solas would have let Aevella down gently at the cusp of their relationship. But when it came to her, he'd realized that he was an inherently selfish creature. Letting her go was simply not an option. Not if he could avoid it.

“No, but you should ask others before merely dropping down on them. They may not appreciate your affections like I do.”

“What can I say? You're just that cuddly when you're in a good mood” Aevella next to purred, wiggling her backside as she moved into a more comfortable position upon him; Solas was just thankful that her face was turned away from him at that moment so that she didn't see the effect she'd had on him. The gritted teeth would have given the game away instantaneously.

Aevella lay back against his chest, gazing skywards at the levels above; Leliana's birds were making an infernal racket, hopping too and fro in the cages that hung over the rotunda. She had half a mind to ask how come she'd never seen any droppings on the desk, but thought otherwise. There was probably some magical barrier preventing such a disaster. “What have you been reading?”She plucked the book back off the table and Solas' hands took it, holding it with her cocooned in his arms.

Solas thumbed through the yellowed pages until he came to the place where Aevella had stolen it from him. “An early work by Brother Genitivi. His views are... surprising for a Chantry scholar, and his modern take on the world fascinating.”

Aevella burrowed into him, seeking warmth; her official clothing had never kept the heat well. “I'd ask you to read to me, but I fear that your voice would lull me to sleep.”

“Are you not sleeping again?” Aevella felt guilty at the clear accusation in his voice. Since returning from the Siege on Adamant a mere month ago, sleep had not come easy. Her dreams were plagued with beasts infected with red lyrium, the Nightmare ever present in the blood-red sky. Twice the guards had broken into her quarters because of the intensity of her screaming, thinking that the Inquisitor was being attacked. After quietly confessing to him the morning after the second door was broken down, Solas had provided her with a sleep tonic.

One that she claimed she didn't need anymore.

“It's not the usual nightmare this time,” Aevella assured him, eyes picking out odd words on the pages before her. It seemed like Genitivi had encountered a dragon or three in his youth. And narrowly escaped on all three counts. “It's more... worrying about what's to come. If I'll be strong enough to face it when it does. So many people are depending on me, Solas. I didn't ask for the mark, for all this... but I got it all the same. What if I fall before I reach the end?”

Solas pressed his lips to the corner of her mouth, muttering against it “you won't. I have every confidence in your abilities.”

“Except my stealth, it would seem.” Aevella huffed. She wound her arms around his neck and drew him in for a deeper kiss,

The door to the rotunda clattered open, Josephine's voice spilling into the room. “Inquisitor? Are you in here?”

Aevella practically flew from Solas' lap, book flying out of his grip, diving under the table with a loud _bang_ as she hit her head. “I'm not here!” she hissed as she buried herself deeper under the table. “She wants the tailors to stick me with pins.”

“Ambassador,” Solas said by way of greeting as the woman stepped into the room. “I'm afraid that the Inquisitor isn't here. I seem to recall that she may have been in the garden?”

“Filthy lies!” came the echoing voice of Dorian above from the library. “She's under the table. Take her Josephine, before they sully my ears with more romantic and disgustingly adorable drivel.”

From under the table came an explosion of swearing. “ _I will send you back to Tevinter in pieces,_ _Pavus_ _!_ ”

Josephine stilled, eyes slowly dropping to the table as a rattle and bang sounded below it, followed by Elvish cursing. “Inquisitor-? Are you... hiding?”

“Yes,” Aevella admitted in a pained voice. “I hate dresses.”

A sigh of resignation. “Please join myself and the tailors in your quarters, Inquisitor. We have very little time to have your outfit made up for the Winter Palace. Such reluctance would reflect very poorly on yourself and-”

“Okay, okay! Ir abelas.”Aevella groaned as she pulled herself out of the tight confines beneath the table, rubbing her dishevelled hair. Creators... her head hurt something chronic after hitting it in the same place twice.

Josephine looked between Solas and Aevella and merely shook her head a fraction. “I am sorry, Inquisitor. I would not insist unless it absolutely imperative.” She seemed sincere in her apology to Aevella. It was because of that reason that she didn't stomp her feet like a child. Though Dorian was in for it later; she could still hear him cackling away to himself on the level above. _Traitor._ _Vint traitor. I'll have Sera stick your sea silk robes with arrows._

“I will be there in a moment” Aevella replied glumly, turning to Solas and leaning down, catching his face in her hands and crushing her lips to his without hesitation. It ended much too quickly for her liking. “I shall be by later so you can patch up the pin holes the savages leave.” Aevella stole another kiss for good measure, reluctant to pull away with Solas' fingers digging into her hip.

“Dareth shiral, ma vhenan,” he murmured against Aevella's lips. After a great internal battle, the Inquisitor finally managed to tear herself away.

“It's your perfume,” Solas suddenly called when Josephine was gone, halting Aevella as she trudged out of the room. “Coupled with your embrium soap, I can smell you coming a mile away. Change to elfroot and you'll be all but invisible.”

Aevella could only grin. “Until later.”


End file.
